


Our Path Is Made Today

by ExchangeTheExperience



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Apex Games, Blood and Injury, Canon Non-Binary Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Character building, Guns, Other, Pre-Apex Games, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:40:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25738183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExchangeTheExperience/pseuds/ExchangeTheExperience
Relationships: Bloodhound/Mirage | Elliott Witt
Comments: 13
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

Elliott Witt was working his last Friday night shift at his uncle Frank’s bar.

 _The Barrel_ was a humble business that despite its lack of more modern accommodations (holo-menus and MRVNs to name just two luxuries of the big city he had seen), it still kept a steady stream of regulars to the area and rowdy newcomers who enjoyed the novelty of what they considered to be a primitive part of town. 

All of Solace was abuzz with anticipation for the next Apex season. After three years of being off air after a rather unfortunate incident that resulted in multiple deaths of previous Legends, the games were finally back. It was the closest thing to unity that their planet had to offer, and the inhabitants took advantage of it. A bloodsport was needed to entertain, to make the people forget the regular struggles of everyday life. To have champions to cheer for, to have someone else fight to the death, was a thrill that only existed when the Apex Games were on.

There were advertisements for the games everywhere. The streets had been lit for the past three months with giant screens offering streaming packages and people were ready to have champions to place their bets on. 

There would be all new fighters.The Legends who hadn't met their end had decided to retire to a more comfortable life out of the spotlight. 

And Elliott was ready to take that spot.

Even now, the TV screens in the bar were tuned in to the news, blasting their speculations of local heroes and villains alike, getting all of Solace worked up. Elliott had spent the evening working and discreetly listening to different bar regulars argue who they thought would be the next Apex Legends. 

He felt a smirk curl at his lips. Little did they know, their handsome and humble bartender was on his way to being a Legend.

* * *

Elliott couldn’t believe it! He had been approved to compete for a chance to be in the games. He had a chance for something great, and he was not going to waste it. 

But first, the preliminaries. 

The signups were the easy part. In retrospect, Elliott should have realized that signing up for a death match would only pull so many competitors. Unlike the actual games, which were yet to be broadcasted, the “prelims” was the real shit. Like, _really_ real. You lose, you die. 

Elliott could pay a hefty amount of credits to get the list of names that would be in the fight. He just didn’t have the funds for it, nor the desire. What did he need to know about a bunch of bloodthirsty opponents that he didn’t know already?

They’ll all try to kill him. On sight.

For a quick and dirty death match, there was a surprising amount of paperwork to do. Listing his next of kin, his medical information, permission to broadcast pictures and footage of him, even his own death if it came to that, no matter how graphic the images. He had filled the hefty application out as clearly and quickly as he could to get it submitted in time. 

Elliott did appreciate that there was a cash prize for either being a winner or a body bag. Granted, dying only awarded ten thousand credits to the deceased’s beneficiary, but it was still better than nothing.

God, that was morbid to think about. 

* * *

“Hey! Can I get another drink over here?!”

Elliott had gotten lost in his thoughts and shook his head. Thankfully, he always managed to go into autopilot when he did that. Handing out the whiskeys he had just poured to the rough looking guys to his left, he threw on another customer service smile to the group of ladies who had glued themselves to the barstools on the right side of the bar. And, if it wasn’t just his ego inflating, they were trying to keep his attention on just them. 

It was his last shift before he was off to the training facility. The bar was full of talking and laughter, hands gesturing to the television screens where the constant reporting of the upcoming games was being broadcasted. Music thumped through the speakers, with a few bar patrons bumping and grinding, to the amusement of their friends. The atmosphere was light, and Elliott wanted to enjoy it while he could.

He chatted it up with aforementioned ladies, throwing grins and winks their way, listening to them practically shriek with laughter as he stuttered adorably while cracking jokes. They stuffed a few tips (and a phone number) into his blue shirt after he won a, “I can totally tie a cherry stem with my tongue”, bet. 

Elliott was doing the impossible tonight. He was keeping his big mouth shut about being a contender for the games. What good would it do, to announce to the general public that he was going to fight for one of the most prestigious titles on the planet? Somebody in the bar would do a hit and shoot him while he fixed a martini.

But damn, he wanted to blab. He wanted to tell someone, anyone! 

Well, someone besides his uncle. 

He had told Frank that he was going to compete in the preliminaries the night before. The older man had stared at him before going into his apartment, slamming the door, and not answering Elliott's knocks or texts. It had put a damper on his excitement, and he had not talked to his uncle since that night, but they had both shown up for work.

Frank came out from the kitchen with a crate of clean glasses and set it loudly behind the bar. Elliott was not going to admit that he was avoiding his uncle, no sir, but that was just what he had been doing. All night he had kept himself as busy as possible, fixing every drink, clearing and wiping tables, and inviting himself to groups of people he kinda sorta knew for a rowdy chat. 

But Elliott couldn’t dodge him all night. Frank had finally cornered him during a busy moment at the bar, and Elliott kept a smile on his face as he fixed a cocktail and felt his uncle breathing down his neck. Somehow he always managed to do that, despite Elliott being a few inches taller than him. 

“You know, you still have time to bow out.”

Elliott slid the poured drink to its new owner and shrugged. “Yeah, I know.”

Frank muttered, “But you won’t.”

Elliott grunted as he moved some bottles around. “Frank, I’ve been ready for this for years. And now, the suit’s ready. I don’t have anything else going on in my life. I need to do this! It’ll give all mom’s hard work m-meaning. She deserves that.”

He heard his uncle scoff in disbelief, even in the loudness of the bar.

“She deserves what? Her last son dead?”

Elliott’s face darkened as he turned away from the bar patrons to glare at his uncle. His previously carefree mood was gone.

“ _Don’t._ ” he warned.

Frank grabbed his arm and Elliott suddenly found himself in the mop room, the door ajar. Frank crowded him, making sure he had his attention.

“You don’t need to do this, Elliott! You have a job, a place to sleep. You have a girlfriend-”

Elliott held up a hand, looking perplexed.“I _had_ a g-girlfriend. It’s been five months since we split!”

“Then think of your mom! My sister! Evelyn would be losing her damn mind!” Frank swore under his breath. “I didn’t mean it like _that_ -”

Elliott spluttered, “No she wouldn’t! She’s the one who helped me build the suit. It was her work, her technology! I finished what she started. She wanted so much for this to work.” 

She was brilliant. Everything he knew was because of his mother. Evelyn Witt had poured her knowledge into all of her sons, but it managed to stick with Elliott the most. They had worked hard on the holo-pilot technology together, even after his brothers were gone.

Well. They did, until...

He blinked rapidly and looked at Frank. His uncle was silent, watching him. Even in the dim light of the mop closet, Elliott saw his tired eyes shining. 

Ah, shit. 

“This isn’t just about mom being worried.” He realized, out loud.

Frank sighed heavily, then cleared his throat. “I’m scared shitless for you Ell. This ain’t no bar fight. This is the _real_ deal. It’s worse than war. War doesn’t have any winners.”

He turned and fiddled with the mop handle, hands twisting. “You’re my only family left. You’re all I got.”

They flinched when they heard a glass bottle smash, followed by cheers.

Elliott took a gentler approach this time. “Frank, I gotta do _something._ There’s no work for wannabe engineers. There’s no place to finish my edge- egu- _school_. I did what I could, I built the holo-suit. She wanted this to exist, and now-” Elliott took a steadying breath. “Now, it does. I’ve tested it. It’s amazing, Frank! I think this could be my big break. I want this, more than _anything_.”

Frank’s hard expression softened. For the first time that night, he smiled, dark eyes crinkling at his nephew. Then he clapped a hand to his forehead, letting out a soft laugh. “Damn it, Ell… You sound just like her.”

* * *

Later, when they were locking the bar up in the early morning hours, Frank lit a cigarette and was thoughtful for a moment while Elliot punched in the security code. He let out a deep breath, letting smoke drift upwards towards the night, and then they started their walk home.

They were quiet for a few minutes, feeling the buzzing energy from working in a busy bar leave their bodies to be replaced with sore limbs and sleepiness. It was a moment before Frank spoke again.

“You know, my dad couldn’t believe it when your mom turned out so smart. I mean, she was a smart kid. He just couldn’t believe how quickly she turned from a nerdy little girl into an engineer. She worked really hard for that. It wasn’t easy, we were dirt poor.”

Elliot walked with his hands in his pants pockets, nodding. Even though he already knew this, he leaned into the words like a familiar bedtime story. 

“But she did it! She put herself through all that school. And when she gave her final presentation, her research or whatever... Shit, those high and mighty scientists knew that they needed her. Your dad saw what he wanted too.”

Elliott stopped in his tracks, surprised by this new information. “My dad was there?"

His uncle paused, quirking an eyebrow up. “Ah shit. You didn’t know? She didn’t tell you this?” Frank asked, scratching his beard.

“She told me they met at work, but she didn’t tell me much!” 

“Well, I’m not sure she’d be too happy with me tellin’ you this, but…” Frank sighed. “He and your mom met at her job, really early on. He may have even been the one to hire Ev. He was a nice guy, smart too.”

Elliott pressed his tongue inside his cheek. He held back any biting remark he could think of regarding his absent father. Despite the pain, he still wanted to hear about him.

“We met twice,” Frank said, holding up two fingers, which held his cigarette between them. “That’s it. Then, they moved to the city, with their bigtime engineer jobs. I didn’t see your mom for five years after that.”

Elliott couldn't stop himself from asking, “Why’d he leave?”

His voice sounded small, like a little kid's. 

Frank let out a breath of smoke slowly and frowned. “I dunno, Ell. I woke up one morning and you, your mom, and those brothers of yours were in my little apartment piled on my couch. The rest is history.”

Elliott spun around and walked backwards, collecting his thoughts. When he inevitably stumbled on some trash, he turned around, walking normally. 

“And mom _never_ said anything about where my dad was or what happened to make her leave?”

“I asked her dozens of times, then and later. She wouldn’t tell me. She just told me to take care of you if anything ever happened to her. I know you already know that part, but…”

Elliott smiled sadly at his uncle. They were quiet for a moment, and then Frank cleared his throat and they resumed walking. 

In no time they had reached their destination, and they stood outside the elevator door of the apartment building where they both lived. Frank lived on the second floor, and Elliott on the fourth. They had once shared an apartment together, but with different sleep habits and schedules, with Elliott needing more space for his work station, and with a few too many times Frank got startled by a holo-Elliott walking up to him and then disappearing when he tried to talk to the decoy, they decided it would be better to have their own spaces. 

Frank stubbed out his cigarette into the trash ashtray and looked at Elliott in the eye.

“Look, I harassed you as much as I could. You’re your own man. I only ask that you promise me you’ll be smart and move fast in that damn game. Save the tricks for sticky situations.” Frank told him.

Elliott nodded. “And I want you to promise me, no matter what, that you’ll take care of Mom when... I mean, if I’m gone.”

“You got it.”

He reached his hand out and Frank took it, and they shook on it.

“Thanks, Frank. For everything.”


	2. Chapter 2

Elliott was currently crouched down, taking cover behind his desk. His gun was drawn, he was breathing rapidly as he peered around from his hiding spot.

At least, that was what a very convincing hologram of Elliott was doing. 

The real Elliott nodded at the improvement. 

“Nice job Elliott. Now we just need to add some “quick breathing” audio and the _Crouching Elliott, Hidden Goofball_ should be good to go!”

He talked to himself while working and tinkering. You tended to do that when you were in your own company, which in Elliott’s case was quite a lot. 

He was racing against the clock to put the finishing touches on the holo-pilot technology. Tomorrow he was heading to the Apex Games training facility. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he got there, but wanted to put on a great show. He wanted to make a name for himself, to be in the spotlight. 

He wanted to be a Legend.

* * *

He had awoken to loud knocks at his door a few nights ago, so loud and out of nowhere that Elliott was surprised he had the sense to grab his gun from his bedside table. His apartment was safe from the amatuer intruder, or he had made it so with a decent alarm system he had installed himself. What his landlord didn’t know, wouldn’t be a pain in Elliott’s ass.

He stood right behind his front door, holding his breath, both hands gripping his gun. He flinched when a voice called his name.

_“Elliott Witt?”_

Elliott called back roughly, “Who wants to know?”

_“The Mercenary Syndicate.”_

Elliott blinked. Once. Twice.

Then, he yanked the door open and leaned against the frame, casually with the gun still in hand and only in his boxers. “Okay, yeah, I did. W-what’s up?”

Two men in black suits stood at his doorstep. They almost looked identical, down to the shape of their haircuts, except one guy was much beefier than the other. Their suit jackets were adorned with gold “MS” pins. 

The bigger Syndicate goon held a slim, black tablet in his hand, and without introducing himself, got straight to the point. 

“We’ve reviewed your application to compete. Based on your credentials as a citizen of Solace City and the scientific achievements of your parents and the honor of your fallen brothers, we would like to invite you to compete in the preliminaries of the upcoming Apex Games.”

Elliott stood silent. His mouth hung open. He wished he was wearing pants.

“Wow. I’m… O-okay. That’s cool.” He managed, a little squeak in his voice.

Only he could manage to fuck up an auspicious moment like this, this badly.

“...Right. If you agree to compete, you are now required to attend the mandatory training session provided by The Mercenary Syndicate. There you will be given a physical examination and the full details of the game.”

Elliott nodded and Mr. Big held out the tablet. There was of course tiny writing above the signing line that waived his family’s right to sue in case of death or grievous injury, not to discuss anything the Syndicate tells him, etc, etc…

Elliott glanced over it as he quickly used his finger to put a jittery signature where prompted, sealing his fate. 

And without so much as a goodbye or go fuck yourself, the Syndicate guys began to walk quickly away.

Elliott blinked, mind reeling. Then, he slammed the door fully open, following after them down the hallway. “Hey, wait! Wait a second, guys!”

They paused right before the apartment elevator, turning back to look at him, faces expressionless. 

“What about me?” He asked.

The suits glanced at each other, and then back at Elliott, who was feeling very (almost) naked and stupid at the moment.

“What about you?” The smaller guy asked impatiently.

“I-I-I just mean... you mentioned my parents and my brothers. What about my achee- ackt- my _skills_?” Elliott asked quickly. 

Surely there was something?

The bigger guy sighed, flipping through the tablet quickly. He shook his head, and then removed his sunglasses, giving Elliott a steady look. 

“All we see on file for you, Mr. Witt, is that you’ve been a good law abiding citizen, and that is it. Anything else is on you to prove to us and to the audience, should you make it to the Apex Games.”

* * *

“I’ll _prove_ it to you, asshole.” Elliott muttered as he watched himself silently strut around and point finger guns to an invisible audience. 

Two years of lonely, frustrating work was finally paying off. The holo-figures looked _so_ real. They were completely opaque. They matched his movements and mannerisms perfectly. And to his relief, Elliott had managed to work out the bug that once had his holograms floating a foot from the ground like freaky ghost Elliotts. 

And now, his holo-suit was ready. He had picked up where his mother had unwillingly left off. He had spent countless nights working on the suit until the holograms had performed the way he wanted them too. 

Elliott noted the positive test results into his computer with a smile. His mom, had she been able to, would have been right there, a proud hand on his shoulder and a grin just as wide as his.

There was nothing more he could do. At this point, it was all about the trial run at the training ground. 

He couldn’t stifle a big, jaw cracking yawn and looked at the time. He had worked through the evening and it was two in the morning. 

Elliott sighed. He needed to get some sleep. He brushed some invisible dust off of the holo-suit as he hung it on a hanger and placed it in his closet. 

He set his alarm and flopped into bed. Despite his heavy eyes, he didn’t fall asleep right away. Now that the math and science was done for the night, Elliott was left alone with his emotional thoughts. 

The room was quiet, except for the hum of the air conditioner, the gentle whirring of his computer across the room.

Then, he heard talking and laughter. Someone shushing the other, more laughter. Elliott heard the door to the apartment next door open, then slam shut. A few minutes passed before he heard the creakings of a bed and breathy moans.

Elliott shook his head, grabbing his phone from its charging station, squinting as the bright screen flashed in his face. He still had names and numbers, lots of them. And despite the late hour, many of those names were online.

What if he had just wasted the past few years of his life on nothing? What if he had isolated himself for a hopeless dream?

He knew that he hadn’t been the best friend or lover. The loneliness got to him, and any attempt to fill that void ended up being too much to handle, requiring more attention than Elliott could really give. The holo pilot technology always pulled him back in, whispering promises of fame and fortune in his ear as he worked to perfect it, to harness it in a tactile way for battle. As holograms of himself faded around Elliott, so did his relationships.

Elliott could send a flirty text. Winky face. Maybe someone would be game to play.

He could have a warm body in his bed...

He let out a breath, slapping his phone back onto his nightstand and rubbed his tired eyes. 

No. He couldn’t do that to anyone. He couldn't do that to himself, not when so much was on the line.

With a sigh, he rolled on his side. His eyes drifted closed, and Elliott finally fell into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

Elliott tapped a beat with his boot on the train floor. 

His headphones muffled the sound, but the announcement for his destination rang out and flashed on the screen at the front of the car. 

He was feeling pretty calm, surprisingly. But Elliott knew he couldn’t be more ready for this. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain from this one opportunity he had been given. 

Elliott Witt, despite his good looks and charisma, did actually have a fighting chance. Years of spending days off in the shooting range, a gym membership with consistent workouts, and a few rough fights with asshole bar goers who tried to weasel out of paying their tab kept him in physical and fighting shape.

But what about killing? 

It had only ever been in self defense for himself or others. One bar tussle had taken a lethal turn a few years back, and Elliott had his first taste of death. 

Of course there was a gun under the bar. The guy had to have been too drunk and stupid to not have known that. But he was too violent to ignore. An arm had snaked around a young lady, and Elliott saw the glint of the knife pressed against her quivering rib cage under her crop top, even as he had been finishing his last few shakes of a drink mix and sloshed it into a glass. 

Without a bend in the knee or a blink of the eye, it seemed to come naturally to Elliott, to grab the hidden gun under the counter, to keep on smiling as the bullet bit the guy in the head. 

The police had questioned him and he had kept it cool. They had thanked him for his quick response and his good aim. Not even a dot on his record. Turns out the guy had been on a murder rampage the past three weeks, and was a suspect of a currently ongoing investigation in human trafficking. Elliott Witt had unwittingly done them a big favor. 

But one guy didn’t make him a stone cold predator. The real fight wouldn’t be against one sloppy scumbag. Elliott wasn’t sure how many scumbags would be participating, but he was very sure that a lot of them were going to be quicker with a gun. He had to be ready.

* * *

Elliott was on the final step before the preliminary battle. He had gone to his local clinic the day before. There he was given a physical examination by a stone faced male nurse that poked and prodded him roughly. The guy watched him pee into a cup, untampered, and lastly he did a stress test on a treadmill for twenty minutes. Elliott was breathing hard by the end of it, but could’ve gone another twenty minutes at his pace if they let him. He was eventually released with a clean bill of health, which they emailed to the syndicate on his behalf.

So now, today, he was required to test his skills in the Apex Firing Range. It was a day's trip to and back, and had taken a couple of hours for his turn in the range. He didn’t know what to expect, other than to aim and shoot, hit the target. 

A quick scan of his ID confirmed who Elliott was and a door slid open to another Syndicate man wearing the same sleek black attire. Only this time, this guy wore regular glasses and looked like he might smile if Elliott got on his good side. 

“Come this way.” The man said, turning his back towards Elliott and going back through the door he had just walked from. Elliott followed quickly behind him. He was led down a long, dim hallway, then the floor underneath slanted downwards and Elliott knew that they were headed underground. In a few moments they reached a door. Beside the door was a touch scanner, which the man promptly pressed his finger to. Access granted, the door slid upwards and he stood aside. Elliott was to go inside, alone. 

Standing tall, Elliott marched into the room, which for some reason was very dark. Before he could turn around and ask the man where he should go, the door was shut behind him loudly. 

Straight ahead, at the end of the hallway, or tunnel, because it looked more like a cave than anything, there was light.

Elliott took a breath and moved forward. He reached the opening of the tunnel and ran through.

* * *

The training ground was not what Elliott had expected. The walls were nothing but gray panels, blank and unnerving. The room was huge, Elliott could easily jog a mile around the whole thing, but it was empty except for a few platforms on the floor.

A sudden humming noise startled Elliott and he turned around, looking for the source of the noise. Then the room began to transform before his eyes. Elliott shielded his eyes as the room grew brighter, it was as if someone had opened all the windows to let the sun itself in.

He felt the warmth of sunlight, a soft breeze brushed his face. He looked down, startled to see he was now standing upon rocks and sand, and on the edge of a cliff. Below him was ocean, waves rolling and foaming below him. He stepped away from the edge, and walked towards the target practice ahead of him. 

It all looked too real, Elliott couldn’t believe he was just in a large empty room only a moment ago. It was the most realistic simulation he’d ever seen.

Elliott’s steps slowed and his brow furrowed.

Had this been his mother’s work? Maybe not just hers, but he knew this was her hologram design at work. It had been harnessed, perfected. Without her.

Elliott felt his fists clench. 

He didn’t have more time to think about it, because there was a chime and a recorded voice spoke.

_“You have one hour of training. You may begin.”_

Then, the floor opened and an arsenal of weapons rose on racks to meet him. There were guns he had never seen available to him before. He was like a kid in a candy store. 

Weapon attachments, body shields, boxes of ammunition appeared all around him, lined and stacked neatly at his disposal. One hour to try it all? He wished he had twelve!

With no time to lose, Elliott headed for the energy weapons. He couldn’t believe that these would be available in the game. He couldn’t afford this kind of gun even if he worked 6 days a week at the bar for a year. And with tips!

He grabbed the closest one, not expecting it to be so light in his arms. The round count told him that the thing was loaded and ready to go. He lifted the gun and aimed. With a finger on the trigger, Elliott held his breath and fired. 

Nothing happened. 

He checked the gun, aiming again and pulled the trigger. Still, nothing.

“Uhh… Am I doing this wrong?”

He looked over where the gun had been hanging, looking at the information plaque. 

“The havoc? Kind of slow on startup-“

Green lightning suddenly flew from the barrel, a flash in Elliott’s eyes. He didn’t realize he was holding down the trigger. He hadn’t been paying attention to where he was aiming, but nonetheless one of the target boards now had still smoking holes in the center, as did the few boards behind it.

“Whoa, nice! That’s got some heat.”

Not wanting to waste time, he quickly looked through the attachments. 

“Let’s see… Mags, mags, mags...” 

* * *

Sure, there were plenty of targets. Some would even slide left to right, back and forth for some added difficulty, but it wasn’t much more difficult as Elliott’s good aim proved. 

On a panel he saw the option to add a DUMMIE to the range. Elliott had seen plenty of videos of them, they were most advanced technology of crash and battle testers available. Now that was a moving target!

“Guess I should add some competition. Make it more of a challenge.” Elliott said, grabbing a pistol for himself. 

Elliott knew he was going to hate it, but it was the best way to get target practice in. He selected the setting for automated deploy.

In less than a second he heard metallic creaking of quickly moving joints, heavy footsteps running in his direction. A gray DUMMIE was running at Elliott full tilt holding what appeared to be a semi-auto.

“Oh, fuck!” Elliott exclaimed, beyond startled, as he dodged the thing and ducked behind a prop rock wall. 

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

The wingman cracked like thunder in the air, and the faceless dummy suddenly had two bullets for eyes, and one for a nose. It halted its steps and then, much like a lifeless body, it collapsed to the ground. Elliott had managed to land the headshots. 

The gun felt hot as he gripped it in his sweaty hand. He let out a breath, feeling his confidence returning. 

“Oops! Thought you had me, didn’t ya?” Elliott laughed shakily. “That’s why _you’re_ the dummy and I’m- OH SHIT!”

Another dummy was coming at him immediately, but this one held an energy gun firing up and aimed at Elliott. He didn’t think he’d die in the training room, but he didn’t want to take that chance. He ducked behind the rock again as bright deadly heat shot by his body, just missing his arm.

Elliott inhaled and exhaled. "Please. Please work!"

He thrust his arm out. 

To the untrained eye, nothing had happened.

But Elliott, the master of his technology, knew better. He had seen the millisecond scan on his body. He had seen the ghost of himself materialize into the air, and it was now on its way. The Elliott dupe came running at the dummy to his left. The dummy turned its head, aiming, and fired. The hologram disappeared with a blue flicker, making the dummy stop in its tracks. If it had a face, it would have looked confused. Too late, Elliott shot once and it too collapsed in a heap. 

Elliott laughed, feeling happier than he had in a long time. His holo-suit was finally operating the way he wanted, after so much work and time spent perfecting it.

* * *

Fifty-eight minutes later, Elliott had left a mess of guns and shells in his wake. The target boards were completely destroyed. Elliott had tried every bit of arsenal that he had been provided. He wasn't a fan of shotguns, but the peacekeeper had a bite to it that even he couldn't not be impressed. 

Maybe it was dumb, but Elliott even tried his hand at a few sniper rifles, their shots whistling in his ears as he aimed at the dummy’s that crouched far ahead of him, or up above him. He landed a few points of damage to their bodies, but it wasn't quite his forte. Hopefully he wouldn't have to rely on those guns to survive. 

His hand finally slammed onto the off switch. 

Elliott was breathing hard, limbs shaking. The air still smelled like gunsmoke. He wiped the blood that had been trickling from his cheek. He had been grazed there, but that was the worst of it. 

He had never felt better.

His suit had worked better than he could have hoped. Every holo-Elliott performed like a professional stunt double. The battery was still more than half way charged. The scanners had stayed put. The suit itself was comfortable and breathable, and looked damn good, Elliott thought to himself. 

He gazed up at the data on the screen above him. He had done a good job on the targets, receiving high damage and accuracy points. He wasn’t too upset about his scores. Could he take on a bunch of wild, flailing DUMMIE’s? Sure. But going up against trained or unhinged killers? That remained to be seen. 

The screen suddenly flickered, then it went black. All around him, the ocean cliffside scenery faded away. The platform that held the weapons lowered and shut, taking all the beautiful guns Elliott wanted with it. 

The lights shut off, leaving Elliott in almost complete darkness. On high alert, Elliott moved quickly, turning this way and that. 

He was feeling very alone among a bunch of mangled DUMMIEs. 

_“Elliott Witt.”_

A voice over the intercom, soft as smoke, but with a knife like edge surrounded Elliott. He spun around, not seeing anyone. 

“Y-Yeah?” He said aloud.

_“You are quite the performer.”_

Elliott smirked. It almost came off as a genuine compliment. But a hint of a sneer was in that voice.

Still, he flashed a million dollar smile, settling into a relaxed stance with his arms akimbo. Might as well keep the energy! Whoever they were, wherever they were, Elliott was not going to find them. 

“Thanks! I’m glad you like my moves.” 

There was a beat of silence. Then-

_“I had wondered if it really was Evelyn Witt’s son that would be competing. Her technology is remarkable. You’ve picked up where she... left off.”_

Elliott felt a flicker of anger spike through his body. He managed to keep his face neutral. A bead of sweat trickled down his brow.

“Yeah, w-well. She didn’t really have a choice.” He said, unable to keep his voice from falling flat. 

Elliott heard a soft noise, just static. Or was it laughter? 

He swallowed. 

_“Indeed... Hopefully we will continue to see your work in the future. Best of luck to you.”_

The silence that followed felt constricting. Elliott's heart pounded.

He jumped as the lights came on again, blinking through the spots in his eyes . The only sound in the room was his own rapid breathing. 

Then, the friendly AI lady spoke again.

_“Your training session is now over. Please leave behind all weapons and use the exit provided. You will be escorted out of the building.”_

The same guy who brought him in was standing at the now visible door. He was silent, but made a hand motion for Elliott to get moving. 

Elliott moved quickly, not wanting to be in that room anymore. His mind was racing with questions and confusion.

At the door, he couldn’t help himself. He took a second to glance back. 

There was nothing but an empty room. No props, no weapons, no screens, and no windows.

Nothing.

But Elliott knew. He knew even at that moment, there were eyes on him.

He’d better get used to the feeling. 


	3. Chapter 3

Three days before Elliott was leaving, he received a text. After another night of barely any sleep, he had spent most of the day in bed. His phone vibrated, startling him from his nap as it rattled loudly against his nightstand. He grabbed it and squinted at the message.

_“Dinner upstairs @ 7. See u then.”_

So at seven o’clock, Elliott took the elevator to his uncle’s floor of the building. Frank opened his apartment door before Elliott could knock, waving him inside. He wore a faded t-shirt and jeans, looking relaxed on his day off from the bar. 

Frank’s apartment was sparse, but still comforting to Elliott who had lived there only two years before. There was the lumpy couch he had often fallen asleep on working late, and the frayed woven blanket Elliott would wake to find had somehow covered him at some point in the night. 

The kitchen table had been cleared on one side for them to sit at, and Elliott sat down at his usual spot while Frank was moving around in the small kitchen, finishing up dinner. 

“Need any help?” Elliott offered.

“Nah, it’ll be done in a second.” 

Frank pulled a shallow pan from the oven and a familiar delicious smell filled the room. Elliott gasped.

“No way, you knew how to make it this entire time?” Elliott said, stomach growling. He hadn’t been eating much, too keyed up for the challenge to come to think about food. But a home cooked meal like this was too good to ignore.

Frank paused, holding the pan with a covered hand. He looked like he was about to say something, but then shook his head and turned back to the stove. 

Elliott’s hunger was quickly replaced with anxiety as he realized what he had actually been invited over for. 

He lifted his head just as Frank placed a pork chop dinner fit for a king in front of him. With practiced speed as a seasoned bartender, he set two glasses with fresh cut ice on the table and then was twisting open a bottle of scotch. 

Elliott opened his mouth to speak, but his uncle was quicker to get the words out.

“You need to go see your mom. Before you leave.” Frank told him, pouring him a drink. Elliott watched the liquid crack the ice before he spoke. 

“I can’t-” He started, but Frank held up a hand to silence him.

“I already paid the fare, the train ride is on your account. 3 PM, sharp.”

Elliott, usually so talkative, felt like his voice had disappeared. 

Frank stood still for a beat, then he made himself a plate to match Elliott’s, placing it on the table. But instead of sitting down, he walked over to the patio door and opened it. Elliott stared at his pork chops as he heard the lighter click.

He managed to find the words as Frank sat down at the table, taking a drag.

“Frank. I’m all she has left of her kids. She’s already so fragile after… after everything. If she sees me, and then somehow maybe she remembers me, then, then,” Elliott stammered, “Then if I die, it’ll kill her too!”

Frank exhaled, flicking ash into the tray on the table. "Then maybe you should have thought of that before you signed your death certificate.”

A flash of anger lit through Elliott. “I didn’t do this to hurt her!” He growled.

But Frank pressed him. “Do you want to forget about her?”

“Of course not!”

“Do you want to die regretting not seeing your mom one more time?” Frank asked, glass of scotch in hand.

“Do you think I’m gonna die?” Elliott snapped, anxiety spiking. 

His uncle took a drink and then set his glass down heavily. His hand was trembling.

"I hope not, Elliott! I hope I don’t lose you. I hope your mom doesn’t lose you. But we both know that this is what you signed up for, a fuckin’ battle royale. So of course there’s a chance you might die. A shitty fifty-fifty chance."

Frank gestured at the food. "I made you this meal, because Ev-, your mom would have done the same. She would have wanted us to be together. You’ve been distant since you heard you were in.” 

Elliott sat back in his chair slowly. 

Had he been distant?

So many of these last few days had been spent alone in his apartment, doing unnecessary tinkering to his holo-suit. Otherwise he paced the apartment. Late at night he would go to the gym, unable to sleep and feeling restless. He had to be strong. He had to be ready. He had to wait for his unknowable future. 

He hadn’t made time for friends, for fun, and not even the little family he had left. 

What was the point, when everything he wanted was either so close, or so very far and unattainable. 

Frank reached across the table to place a hand on his arm. “You’re not alone here, bud. You might be out there, but you’re not here.”

Elliott swallowed. How could he tell Frank that he was wrong, he was very alone.

He might die alone.

“You need to be with her. Please. Even if she doesn’t... Even if she can’t…” Frank took a steadying breath. “She wants to see you. I know she does.”

Elliott closed his eyes. He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

This had been his dream. And she had been supportive of him. But did his mom think he’d really get this far. Had she really been okay with him wanting to risk his life to be famous? If she knew who he was and what he was about to do, would that send her spiraling again? Would his death make her die of a broken heart?

But he knew he couldn't leave without seeing her one last time. 

The sleepless nights usually ended with Elliott listening to an audio clip of his mom. There were only a few, but they made him smile, and eventually lulled him to sleep. 

_"Elliott wants me to keep a journal- What Ell? Sorry, he wants me to keep a captains log, of our progress together. Well, captains log Wednesday Sept 5: Elliott has been doing great work with the..."_

Elliott nodded slowly. “I’ll go.” 

Frank squeezed his arm gently. “Ell…”

Elliott shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore.

Frank nodded. He stubbed out his cigarette, ending that painful conversation. Without another word he started to eat his dinner. After a moment, he gestured for Elliott to do the same. 

Elliott slowly picked up his fork and knife, cutting into a perfectly cooked pork chop. It was his mother’s famous recipe.

He could barely taste it.

* * *

That was how Elliott found himself on the train to visit his mother.

Elliott gazed out the window. He was only a few minutes away from his destination. The train was quiet except for an old man singing softly to himself as they winded along the tracks through the city. 

He soon found himself standing outside of the assisted living facility. Elliot grimaced every time he looked at the grey building. It wasn’t the best for his mother, but it definitely wasn’t the worst.

He scanned his identification card and headed inside. A few tired looking nurses and old folks were wandering the halls. It was a bit after dinnertime, and Elliott knew they’d be busy getting ready to be settled down for the evening. Hopefully he’d have plenty of undisrupted time with his mom. 

Elliott had worn his nicest casual outfit, a yellow button down shirt and black slacks. Yellow was Evelyn’s favorite color. She remembered that much, at least. 

He scribbled his name on the sign in, scanned his thumb, and stood for a few minutes impatiently before a sleek, blue robot on wheels rolled in from down the hall to stop in front of him. A cute pixel smile flashed on the little face screen and it chirped for him to follow.

It went fast for a box on wheels and Elliot sped up to follow it down the halls until they reached his mother’s room. There was no knob for Elliot to turn, and no way for him to scan himself. The robot took its sweet time to connect and register the key to the panel on the door. 

Elliot frowned. Why did it have to be this way? Wasn’t it dangerous to have his mom trapped like this? What if there was an emergency? He would talk to the _human_ nurses about this after his visit. 

Finally, the door was opening. A woman’s recorded voice came from the robot, _“Evelyn? You have a visitor, dear.”_

Officially losing patience, Elliott pushed past it, anxiety and eagerness suddenly overwhelming him. 

“Hey there mom!” He practically sang, arms opening with a flourish. 

Evelyn Witt sat in a soft chair close to her room window. She was wearing a blue denim dress with a soft yellow cardigan. Her hair, which had once been as dark as his, was a neat silver braid. 

At the sound of his voice, Evelyn turned her head to look at him walking towards her, her green eyes clear as she gazed at him.

Did she recognize him?

“Hello. Who are you?” She asked politely.

Swallowing down his disappointment he smiled and held out his hands to her. “My name is Elliott.” 

“Elliott,” she paused to think about it, then nodded. “That’s a nice name. You’re a handsome man.” 

He laughed softly. “Well thank you very much. You’re a beautiful lady.”

He perched on the edge of her bed while she sat back in her chair, still holding each other's hands. He glanced at the small table by her chair. There was a yellow notepad and a very dull pencil. The paper was covered in her writing, still neat and precise, but Elliott couldn't understand what she had been writing. It was a mix of sentences and formulas he couldn't decipher at a glance. He turned his attention back to his mother. 

“Mom, do you remember me at all?”

“You’re Elliott.” She stated matter-of-factly. 

Elliott chuckled weakly. “Y-yeah. But who am I? Do you remember?”

Evelyn was silent. He watched as she fiddled with the sleeve of her cardigan, not meeting his eyes. She reminded him of a little girl. 

He pushed ahead. “I’m your son, Mom.” 

“My son?” Evelyn asked, sounding in awe. Elliott nodded, breaking into a grin. It quickly fell off his face when she murmured, “Roger?”

Elliott’s breath hitched. She remembered his eldest brother. He had been gone for so long, but Elliott was right there in front of her. Why couldn’t she remember who he was?

No. He was _not_ going to be jealous of his dead brother. He needed to focus on why he was here. 

“Mama-” Elliot cleared his throat. What could he say that wouldn't hurt her?

“Mom. I just wanted to tell you, I finished the holo-suit. It’s...amazing. It works _so_ good.”

He gently squeezed her hands, but couldn’t help it as he bounced where he sat, excited. “And, mom! I’m gonna use it soon. It’s gonna see some action.”

If Evelyn Witt were in the right frame of mind, she would have leapt from her chair to hug him tightly in excitement. Elliott wanted to celebrate this moment, this breakthrough in their creation, but his mother remained sitting, a contented smile on her face as she listened to him talk.

Evelyn laughed softly, seeing his excitement. “That’s wonderful! I’m glad you got your suit to work. I bet you look great in it.”

He chuckled. She might be thinking of a formal suit. “You know I do.” 

They smiled at each other. A shadow passed over them and Evelyn gasped softly, turning to look out of the window again. Birds were flying by. The golden light of the setting sun peeked out in bright golden beams from behind all the taller buildings.

They sat together quietly for a moment, enjoying the golden hour of the day. Elliott enjoyed this, wondering if he would live to see the sunlight with his mother again.

Evelyn squeezed his hands and he tore his eyes away to look at her, blinking the spots of lights from his vision. 

His mom was watching him, a content smile on her face.

“Do you know my brother, Frank?” She asked. “You look a lot like him.” 

“Yup. He’s gonna come by to see you soon. He misses you.”

* * *

The rest of their visit passed by quickly, as they talked about all the little things going on in their lives. Outside, the golden light faded as the sun set and the sky turned an inky blue as the city lit up. 

A human nurse came in to check on them, her look warning him that he only had a few minutes left of his visit. Elliott was running out of time, in a lot of ways. 

Five minutes later, he knew he had to say goodbye. He sighed, squeezing his mother’s hand gently. 

“I have to go now, Mom. I’m sorry.”

She patted his hand softly. “That’s alright. I enjoyed your company.” 

Elliott stood up quickly, barely holding it together. “Thanks, M-mom. I’ll see you s-soon.”

He stopped at the doorway. His chest rose and fell as he breathed. He couldn’t help it, he turned to look back at her. She was watching him, her expression peaceful.

“Can I hug you?” He asked her. “Before I go...”

Evelyn laughed softly, slowly rising to stand, holding out her arms. “Of course! You never have to ask.”

Elliot moved to her in a flash, and wrapped his arms around her. He felt his knees buckle slightly, but held himself up. He rested his chin softly on her shoulder. 

“I love you, Mama.” Elliott whispered.

She patted his back. “Will you visit me soon, Elliott?”

He rose up, holding her arms gently and nodded, blinking hard.

“I’ll try.” 


	4. Chapter 4

The day had finally come.

Elliott had taken sleep medication in the early evening the night before. He slept long and hard but still awoke at three, groggy and stressed. He heard sounds in his kitchenette and walked in quietly. 

Frank was there, getting started on a breakfast that Elliott wasn’t sure he could stomach. He watched his uncle for a moment before padding out of the room.

Elliott washed up in the bathroom, enjoying one last hot shower. He shut his eyes, tilting his head back. He enjoyed the heat, the water running down his body. He willed himself to think of nothing. To be present in this moment is what mattered. 

He turned off the water and spent the next few minutes drying off and styling his hair, mindless tasks that kept him busy until he left the bathroom.

Placing his comb into its cup, he closed the cabinet to face himself in the mirror. 

Elliott tried to smile. It really did take more muscles this time around, and he stood there, grinning forcibly at himself. He looked tired. He looked older. 

With a sigh he turned away and clicked off the light.

Frank had a plate set at the table for him, but the man ate nothing. Elliott knew he couldn’t refuse, so he ate what little he could, barely tasting the food. He drank a small cup of coffee, which lifted his spirits a tiny bit, and at the least woke him up.

At four o’clock he got dressed. Frank stood up to help him pull on his holo-suit, but Elliott had little trouble putting it on. With the help of a well known seamstress in town, the material fit perfectly and comfortably to his body over his under clothes. 

He stepped into and laced up his boots, slipped on his gloves, belts and pouches. Lastly, he slipped his tinted goggles over his forehead. 

His mother had given them to him when he was a kid. They had been huge on him, like large bug eyes that made her laugh when he wore them. But he had grown into them over the many years and no longer needed to adjust the strap. 

Elliott checked himself in the tall mirror on the closet door, making sure everything was in place and in order. 

Despite everything, he looked good. 

He smiled for real this time, admiring his figure. 

Hey, he was only human. 

On a hook in the back of his closet hung a chain with three tags on it. They were purely symbolic, there had been no bodies to collect them from.

The chain had hung there for years now, feeling too heavy to wear around his neck everyday. Now, he reached out, feeling the smooth, engraved metal. 

He hesitated, unsure, but then Frank spoke. 

“Take them with you.” He said, watching Elliott from his chair.

The dog tags, or the ghosts of his brothers? Elliott wondered.

Still, he grabbed the chain and slipped it over his head, tucking the tags into his suit, under his shirt. 

Frank’s eyes were closed. He almost looked like he was sleeping. Elliott walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“You can’t be here when they come.” He told his uncle gently.

“I know.” Frank grunted. He scrubbed at his eyes. He looked exhausted.

Fuck. This was breaking Elliott’s heart.

He patted the man’s shoulder, squeezing comfortingly. 

Elliott owed this man so much, and he knew he was doing shit to repay him by going off to fight in a manhunt. 

They had discussed everything beforehand. Frank was his beneficiary. Everything Elliott owned, including his holo-tech programs and patents would go to him. The ten thousand credits upon death would go to Frank's account to use as he wanted. 

He knew today was going to be hell for his uncle. He was likely to hit the worst lottery there ever was. 

He just needed one last favor from him. 

“Whatever happens, I need you to take care of her. Visit as often as you can, make sure she’s comfortable.”

Frank nodded stiffly. “Of course I will. She’s my sister.”

Elliott gave him a weak smile. He took a steadying breath, “Don’t… don’t tell her I died. If she forgets, it’s okay.”

Frank swallowed and nodded again. Then, Elliot found himself being hugged tightly by his uncle, squeezing out the few tears he couldn’t hold in. 

It was a few minutes before he was let go. Frank patted him hard on the back, clearing his throat. He walked towards the apartment door, then turned back standing straight. 

“You _fight_ like a mad man,” Frank ordered him, voice rough, “Use your holo-guys. Trick ‘em up. Bamboozle those assholes!”

Elliot swiped at his eyes with the back of his wrist, laughing. “Bamboozle, huh? That’s a great word. Never heard it before.”

“It’s an old one from Earth.”

Elliott smiled. “You never told me about it. Earth, I mean.” 

Frank paused at the door. He was silent, but then, Elliott heard him laugh softly. “Maybe someday, I will.”

* * *

He was alone.

Elliott stood in the middle of his apartment. The only sound was his own breathing, which had slightly accelerated. 

He couldn’t sit. Everything he had in the world was gone or had forgotten him. Everything that mattered to him was hinged upon this one fateful day. 

He felt like his thoughts were filled with static. He blinked. 

Outside, it had begun to rain.

Then, there was suddenly a single sharp knock at his door. Elliott's heart thumped.

5 AM on the dot. 

The suits had come to collect him.

* * *

Elliott stood crammed onto the Apex Drop ship. 

Unlike the one he had arrived to the station in, this ship was not made for comfort. Elliott had been grabbed quickly and patted down, strapped up, and had directions thrown at him. They were loaded on like cattle and he took a place to stand. Two armed guards stood on each side of the cockpit door. There would be no funny business on this ship.

Elliott was now adorned with a flight pack and given a communication device that he clipped to his belt.

The drop ship was packed with competitors of all shapes, sizes, and Elliott grimaced, smells. He had checked some of them out as they quickly filed into the loading dock. Elliott swallowed. Some of the guys he saw were men he had only seen on wanted fliers, or he saw on the not-so-secret Solace City underground fight ring vids. All this pent up strength and aggression filled the ship and felt like it was crushing him. And this was only half of the men competing. There was another ship of them, and then two ships of the highly skilled ladies who would be fighting in the game. Elliott frowned, not wanting to think about the potential to hurt a woman.

That was the worst thing about this game, all rules went out the window. 

_“This plane is seriously lacking booze.”_ He thought to himself. He wanted a drink now more than ever.

It had been mostly silent for the hour long flight, the loudest noise was the hum of the ship as it was piloted over Kings Canyon. 

A thrill shot through Elliott when the pilot’s voice crackled through the intercom. 

_“Welcome to Kings Canyon! We’ll be reaching our desired altitude shortly,”_ He sounded as pleasant as any other pilot, and talked like they were passengers landing on a resort island and not just a bunch of muscled pigs to a slaughter desert. _“We will direct you when it is time to make the jump. May the best fighters win!”_

The intercom barely clicked off before the ill-natured threats and violence broke out as a few burly men exchanged punches. Weapons were not allowed on the dropship, so fists were all they had to try to maim each other.

Elliott winced when he heard, but could not see, the crack of what was probably a fist to a jaw, and a howl of fury.

“You’re _dead_ , motherfucka!” The victim spat. 

Elliott squeezed himself into his corner, willing himself to be invisible. If these meatheads wanted to toss each other off the plane, let ‘em. 

Elliott clutched the handgrip above him, swaying where he stood. 

He felt a trickle of sweat. 

Elliott was silent. No need to draw attention to himself here. So his mind filled the silence instead. 

Would the suit work in combat as it had in his last few tests? Would he be able to find any weapons, let alone a decent one? How many people would he have to kill? How long would the game take? Was his mom thinking of him at this moment? 

The longer the flight went on the more his confidence left him. He felt like his heart was gonna fall out of his ass. 

Elliott shook his head roughly. 

No! No! Knock it off, Witt!

If he was already giving up before it even started, he might as well unclip the flight pack from his waist and jump out of the ship. 

Elliott had to remember where his balls were and man up! His whole life had led up to this moment, _his_ moment. 

"Be proud of what you are." Elliott whispered to himself.

He was gonna be a star! 

Either by shining brightly or burning out in a blaze of glory.

Elliott was jolted out of his self pep-talk by a loud alarm and flashing red light. The guards nodded to each other, and one moved from his place to stand before them all. Pressing the side of his helmet, his voice crackled through the sound system in the ship.

_“Make sure you are standing on your designated platform! When I give the signal, you will jump ship, and you will do so quickly! Where and how you land is up to you. If you die, you obviously lose!”_

The guard paused. Then, he grinned, a gold capped canine glinting. Elliott's stomach clenched.

 _“May the best legend win!”_ He shouted, and Elliott could hear the laughter in his voice before he shut his comm off. 

* * *

The floor beneath his feet trembled as he was suddenly lowered from the ship. Everyone looked jostled for a moment before they got their footing. The men began to shout and jeer, shoving at each other. 

The wind whipped around him, the ship engine roared as it hovered in the air. Elliott got a good look at the vast land that lay before him before he lowered his goggles onto his eyes. His heart was beating fast, but despite being on the edge of the air, he felt a calm wash over him. 

Above them, the guard stood. Then, he saluted them.

Go.

Others were already jumping, their flight packs releasing colored smoke as they shot through the clouds. 

There was no more waiting. The time was now.

 _"Alright, here we go!"_ Elliott shouted into the sky. 

He ran the short distance that the platform offered him, and leapt.


	5. Chapter 5

“ _WOOOOHOOOOO!”_

Elliott didn’t consider himself much of a daredevil. Skydiving was not something he had ever experienced, but he was having a blast. If he survived this, well, if he survived everything, he’d happily jump into the sky again.

A burst of energy hit him, and he tried something for fun. Tilting his body forward, he completed a somersault in the air easily. He laughed in delight as he straightened his body again, feeling breathless. 

A decoy of Elliott suddenly flew off to the west.

While goofing off, he had accidentally cloned himself. The holo-image of himself rippled a bit from the wind and velocity, but it was hardly noticeable when it was diving through the air. 

Holy shit! He hadn’t even thought of that. He wondered how far it would travel. Would someone follow it to the ground below? 

He was making mental notes and thinking of all the possibilities and the mechanics, when he suddenly heard a booming noise, like a whale call and a roar. 

Far away, standing tall in the ocean surrounding the canyon was a huge beast that Elliott had only seen videos of.

A leviathan! No, there were two, another one stood close to its companion, a few yards apart. They moved slowly in the water with their long limbs. They turned their huge heads left and right. Probably concerned or confused by all the people flying through the air, or by the colored trails of smoke that painted the air. The other leviathan let out a lower, curious bellow that made Elliott laugh. 

He stared for a moment in awe before turning his attention back to the immediate task at hand, landing safely.

* * *

Elliott realized he had made a huge error.

He hadn’t thought of _where_ he was going to land. 

The canyon was a vast landscape. He had a lot of options, but only a minute to choose. 

He had considered the Thunderdome, but his self-perseverance kicked in. This was a long game to play. Diving into the Thunderdome, while it may have the good loot, maybe even the best loot, would be a total bloody clusterfuck. He’d barely get his finger on a trigger before he’d have his head blown off. 

No, it needed to be somewhere else. Somewhere he'd have a chance to get his bearings and make a plan of attack. 

Settlements, slums, and military bases were in view for a moment but then soon they were gone. Elliott was quickly heading to the east of the canyon.

The ground below him was approaching fast, and soon he was seeing dense patches of trees, water, and rocky cliffs. 

Smaller buildings were also coming into view. Elliott scanned the sky, seeing trails of smoke leading to some.

The carnage would be starting any moment.

* * *

Water splashed around Elliott’s legs as he flew and then stumbled to the ground. He made a surprisingly soft landing as he felt the pack sputter behind him to slow him down. With only a little shock to his knees as his boots touched the ground, he remained standing, his heart racing as he quickly took in his surroundings. 

There were lots of tall trees with creeping roots and branches draped with clinging moss. They cast shadows over everything, the warm, bright sun that Elliott had felt during his flight was now hidden behind clouds. The air was humid, and the water he stood in was warm around his boots. 

But it was quiet. Elliott had managed to land alone, by the looks of it. 

There was no time to admire the scenery. He crouched in some scraggly bushes, keeping quiet as he pressed his comm device awake. A mosquito whined in his ear, and he impatiently waved it away.

A map of the Kings Canyon appeared, in its entirety. He saw a little yellow arrow on the screen. Guessing that was himself, he zoomed in. 

Elliott swore silently. He was in the swamps. 

Worse, he was miles away from the first ring.

If he didn’t hustle and get to the first circle, he’d be cooked. King's Canyon was a huge battleground that he was going to trek through toward victory. The question was, where would that victory be? Not only did he have to survive not being brutally murdered by anyone and everyone, he also had to avoid the constantly closing energy ring.

A clock ticked down, even now. He had four hours to get inside the circle. He wasn’t going to get very far either way, if he didn’t have a single bullet to throw at an enemy. 

He looked over to the ramshackle buildings in the swamp. There were many, all connected by fading wooden bridges and ramps. Unlike the other settlements and structures constructed in the canyon, the swamps had very basic shelter, as the area had been used for sourcing water to the more inhabited areas. Large pipes ran miles across the swamp water and beyond, farther than Elliott could see. 

Gray clouds had drifted over the sun. The wind had picked up, rustling the leaves and grasses around the swamp. A fog was rolling in, clouds of mist drifted over the numerous bodies of water in this area. 

All was quiet, for now. 

Time to loot. 

* * *

Elliott had poor luck with his search for weapons. He’d been through three of the shacks already. He found a basic backpack, which was a good start. But it was filling up quickly with attachments to weapons he didn’t even have, and a few grenades. 

He flinched when he suddenly heard a voice in his ear.

 _“First blood.”_ was what was announced to him in a disembodied female voice.

He had forgotten that he had been given an ear piece. These announcements would come through as the game progressed. It would also give him a better shot at hearing footsteps and gunfire, with audio advancements. One of the few perks he and everyone else had been given by the Syndicate. 

So, first blood. That was quick. Somebody had already bit the dust. 

Elliott let out a slow breath.

“Rest in peace, you poor bastard.” He whispered.

Elliott paused, feeling the fear he held in his belly. He wondered how much longer it'd be before he was caught, before he was killed. How long would it take for the money to hit Frank's bank account. He imagined the message popping up on his Uncle's phone, _"Here is your payment with our sincerest condolences, he died quickly if that makes you feel better-"_

Elliott shook his head roughly as if to dissolve the intrusive thoughts. “C’mon, Witt!” He growled quietly.

He needed to get a grip. This hesitation and indecision was what was going to get him killed. 

Elliott hurried across the creaky wooden bridge to the next building. This one was taller, with two stories. There just had to be a weapon in there. Whatever it was, Elliott was grabbing it. 

Thunder rumbled above him. During his lackluster looting, the sky had grown darker. It would rain soon, any minute. 

He reached the shack and opened the door, freezing immediately in the entry.

Two guys were already in there, and they had what Elliott guessed was the only two weapons in the shack. The taller guy, a pale skinhead, was in the middle of adding attachments to his pistol while his partner, a greasy looking short guy missing an ear, was trying to cram as many grenades and boxes of light ammo into his small backpack as he could. 

The door opening had startled them, but seeing that their intruder held no weapon in his hands, both laughed unpleasantly. 

Oh. Great.

As in most awkward situations, Elliott’s mouth took control over his brain. “Oh, h-hey there boys. Did I stumble in at the wrong time?”

There was silence in the shack. A frog croaked outside.

The skinhead slapped the light mag into the RE-45’s grip, while the other raised his alternator towards Elliott’s face. 

Elliott read the room. “A-Alrighty then, I’ll just go!”

In a heartbeat, he found himself back outside, but the goons were quick to follow. 

He was stumbling backwards across the rickety bridge but it was a futile escape. The guys now had their guns both aimed at him. He would be dead in less than a moment. 

Elliott shut his eyes tightly when he heard the shot go off, not ready for the pain. 

Let it end quickly.

But despite the ringing in his ears, he didn’t feel anything. Elliott opened his eyes and the guy who had the gun pointed at his head was on the bridge, dead. A bullet to the head.

His partner looked stunned for a second before fumbling on the ground for the RE-45. He had dropped it in surprise.

Elliott whipped his head around his shoulder. In the fog, across the wooden bridge stood a lone figure. 

They were an awesome and frightening sight. Tall, with a proud stance and a confident aim. 

They held a pistol in their right hand. A large bird, black as oil was perched on their shoulder like some kind of personal demon. It cawed loudly and suddenly took flight, disappearing into the rain and fog.

Elliott let out a shaky breath, grateful to be alive, but then remembered the current situation he was in was also _definitely_ not safe. He couldn’t afford to look back at the guy in front of him and instead chose to jump off the short height of the bridge into the water below. 

* * *

He heard the shot ring out as he landed on his boots with a splash.

The rain began to pour in earnest, rippling the water around him. Elliott ran full tilt away from the murder shack. Still no guns, and no shield, but he had just escaped death and what looked like the devil was still behind him with a weapon and good aim. 

He had run only a few meters, heart pounding, water splashing loudly. This was not a great escape.

Without a sound of warning, he was grabbed roughly from behind. Elliott let out a yelp before a gloved hand heavily covered his mouth, and he felt himself pulled against a tall, warm body. 

In the brief seconds that he had to live, he cursed his shit luck and himself for getting so easily caught from behind. He couldn’t see his killer, with wet hair in his eyes. He couldn’t even struggle, his captors strength was such that all he could do was hyperventilate quietly and wait.

Wait for the muzzle of a gun to be pressed against his head and for his life to be over. 

Or it could be the white hot pain of a sharp knife slitting his throat. 

Please, let it be a gun. 

But neither bullet nor blade came. He was still wrapped tight in this stranger's arms, which on most nights at the bar was welcome, but that _really_ wasn’t something to think about right now. 

Seconds ticked by. Elliott realized he could hear the stranger breathing, like a quiet filter. As if with an oxygen mask on.

“You are calm.”

Elliott wasn’t sure if that was a question or a command, but with his mouth still covered, he jerked his head down in a nod. The terrified knot in his stomach loosened a tiny amount. 

The arm released him and Elliott sprang away, stumbling in the mud and water. He turned quickly to face his captor. He knew he couldn’t run, he’d be dead in a second, but he put a little space between himself and this person who was for some reason giving him a little longer to live.

It was the demon from before, the one that had saved him. 

They were dressed for war, or for a hunt. They wore a tunic, pants, and boots in natural, earthy colors. It all looked handcrafted and well made. This person, whoever they were, was made for survival.

Their face was concealed by a mask, perhaps a respirator? Over their eyes were strong looking goggles that were not unlike the empty, black sockets of a skull.

Any part of their body that could have had exposed skin was covered. Not even a single lock of hair was there for Elliott to see. 

Elliott suddenly felt very weak and very stupid in his holo-costume. 

“You were very prepared to die. That is not good.” 

The stranger had an accent. He could hear it despite the softness of their voice through the mask. He wasn’t too familiar with the old geography, but he had seen plenty of vids. This person sounded Scandinavian or something. 

“Who are you?” He asked, genuinely curious despite his body shaking in fear.

Their head tilted to the side, seeming to assess him.

“I am _Blóðhundr_. I am the hunter the gods have sent.” 

They stepped close, still holding the RE-45 in their hands. 

“But you can call me Bloodhound.”

Elliott shivered. Everything they said was so intense. He didn’t know what gods this Bloodhound worshipped, but it sounded like they were willing to make sacrifices for them. 

“Bluh-Bloodhound. Right, got it! I’ll never forget it.” he mumbled.

They nodded. “Do you have a team? Have you made alliances?”

He quickly shook his head. “I-I… No, I don’t-” 

Suddenly, gunshots in the near distance rang out. One. Two. Then, a rapid succession. Someone was about to be mowed down. 

The stranger shielded Elliott, standing in front of him. They had his attention again and he stared at them, unsure where this situation was going. 

“There is little time. You must choose.” They said.

“Choose what?” Elliott asked, beyond confused.

Bloodhound leaned close, backing him up against a rough wooden beam. They were both still standing in shallow water under the bridge. Hopefully they were hidden enough in the shadows. 

“Will you join the battle with me? Will you be my _félagi,_ fight and _slátra_ beside me, or die trying?” Bloodhound demanded.

He stared at them. His mouth was definitely hanging open.

It sounded like a proposal without a ring or a bent knee. There was no doubt that this Bloodhound person was fast, fearsome and accurate. Why would they want to drag him through Kings Canyon when they were more than capable on their own?

Still, this wasn't the time to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

“And the other choice?” Elliott asked quietly, for confirmation.

The gun was raised again, their finger on the trigger. Elliott swallowed. 

“I think you know what it is.”

Their voice was soft, but dangerous. Even though this hunter was the scariest person Elliott had seen in a hot minute, he felt a tug at his heart when he heard the subtle plea in their voice. 

As in, _please don’t be an idiot and make me have to kill you_. 

With a quick nod, Elliott kept “eye to goggle” contact and slowly raised his arm to gently backhand the gun away. He stood up straight, hitching up his pants he had managed to not shit in.

“Alright, alright. We’re the dream team. And _stop_ pointing that thing at me.”

Bloodhound nodded but did not lower their gun. 

“Can I look at my comm without you shooting me?” Elliott asked sarcastically. Almost dying didn’t have him in a very good mood.

“Yes.” Bloodhound said seriously, finally lowering their pistol. 

Elliott grabbed his comm and clicked it open. This altercation had cost him a half hour of travel. And now, he was part of a team, which he couldn’t fathom how in the hell this was going to end favorably for either of them.

He hadn’t anticipated this, to have someone want to grind through this battle with him. Especially someone like Bloodhound who could probably become a Legend on their own accord. 

They already had two kills. They could be an Apex Predator without his help. 

Elliott frowned, looking at the map again. He saw his arrow standing still in the swamp. A red dot was at the tip, indicating that there was an enemy directly in front of him.

He looked up at Bloodhound, who was watching him.

He coughed quietly. “Do you, uh… Do you want to link up?” he asked, shaking the comm in his hand.

Bloodhound reached to their belt at their waist, which already held many pouches of who knows what. Their comm was clipped there. They removed it easily and held it in their hand.

Elliott felt brave enough to approach them. He pressed the connection icon. Both of their devices lit up with their available connection and he clicked “accept” on both of their screens. 

He stepped away, giving them space. Looking at the map again, his arrow now had a companion. 

“That should do it.” Elliott said.

Bloodhound nodded. 

They both stood there for a beat. The rain had cleared up, and now a hot sun was shining through the clouds. The light glinted off the silver rims of Bloodhound’s goggles.

Elliott cleared his throat, glancing around.

“We should get moving,” he suggested, “I’m not familiar with the area and we got a long way to go.”

“There are many paths to victory. I will find us the right one.” Bloodhound stated. 

“You know King’s Canyon?” 

“Yes.”

For the first time, Elliott smiled at them. Maybe this would be an advantage to him, having a hunter and a guide through Kings Canyon. He could only hope. 

“I would not recommend the Hydro-Dam,” Bloodhound said, “We do not have the advantage of landing there. There are too many open spaces leading to the main building.”

They paused. 

“If there are enemies, they will have better weapons and we will be _drepinn_.”

Despite the language difference, Elliott understood. He glanced at the RE-45 that they held. He still needed a weapon. 

“Yeah we really need some better weapons, don’t we?” Elliott glanced at their expressionless mask and snorted. “Well, I do…”

Together, they went back to the two bodies on the bridge. Elliott swallowed down the sick feeling he got looking at them.

_It's too late. It's already done... This is what the game is._

Bloodhound moved quickly, unfazed by what they'd done. They looted the bodies, grabbing a backpack and tossing it to Elliott. He unzipped it and grabbed a couple grenades, a basic heavy mag, and some light and heavy bullets. They had kept their pistol, but now had an alternator that they had looted. Elliott now held a P2020 with a basic light mag. It felt so useless in his hand, but it would have to do for now. 

They were looking at their own comm, at the map. After a moment they double tapped the screen, selecting a point of travel. Elliott heard his comm ping and grabbed it. He looked where they had pinged, squinting at the screen.

“Okay... Do you know what’s there? ‘Cause I don’t see-” 

Bloodhound had already begun a steady run across a large blue pipeline that led out of the swamp. 

“Follow the leader, I guess.” Elliott muttered, hurrying up to jog beside them. 

* * *

They had been running for a half an hour. 

Elliott was quiet, breathing steadily. The ground was rough here. There were lots of rocks and craters caused by who knows what that could easily cause a twisted ankle. 

Bloodhound was quiet too. Elliott envied their surefootedness as they led him across the field. They moved determinedly, always seeming to know the best steps to take through the path they were on. Elliott followed them without question, which was either very stupid, or very smart. 

They both took cover periodically in dense bushes, behind large rocks and broken down vehicles. Coming across a few supply bins they quickly opened them up. To Elliott's relief, they both now had basic shields, which melded over their bodies when they each touched one. There was one helmet, and Bloodhound nodded to him, letting him have it. 

There had been no time to waste oxygen asking Bloodhound the many questions Elliott now had rattling around in his brain. He was staying focused though, keeping his eyes peeled and following Bloodhound steadily through the thicket.

Soon they reached a sobering sight.

The area looked like it had been through hell, literally. Everything was blackened, scorched. There had been a building here, but now it was in ruins, just broken metal and bricks. What remained of trees was dead, just burnt logs like large, black spikes in the ground. 

Had this just happened? Elliott turned to ask Bloodhound, when they suddenly spoke.

“Shattered Forest.” They said, gesturing to their bleak landscape.

“That’s an accurate name.” Elliott mumbled.

Bloodhound nodded. “This happened some time ago. And yet… it still burns.”

They were right. Every breath he took was like breathing in smoke from a roaring fire. He pulled up his cloth neck guard over his mouth and nose.

“What happened?” he asked, voice muffled. 

Their mask hissed with an exhale. “People. Careless, people. The fire burned for many days. It was a terrible thing.”

Elliott nodded, not asking for more information.

Behind them in the far distance, the air had turned a sinister looking fiery orange. The ring was now closing in, following them ominously wherever they went. 

But maybe they could do this. Maybe they could both stay ahead of the ring, make it through to the end. 

He yelped when he suddenly heard Bloodhound’s voice directly in his ear. It sounded like they were standing close, but they were a few feet away looking through a supply bin. 

Oh, right. The ear pieces. 

“Sorry, what did you say?” 

“What may I call you?” They asked.

“Call me?”

They walked back to where he stood, now holding their alternator in their hands. 

“Your name. Or, whatever it is you call yourself.”

“Me? Well, I’m… I’m uh…”

Elliott? 

Well, duh, _obviously_. But could he tell Bloodhound, (was that even their name) that? Secretly, he was glad he wasn’t alone in this fight, but he wasn’t ready to be chummy with this complete stranger that had held his life in their hands way too easily. He knew that this unique situation wasn’t about friendship. 

There was no reason to trust them.

So what name could he give them? He should have thought about this sooner. Every legend needs a title. Why hadn’t he thought about this before?

A medley of dumb names flashed through his head. _Trickster, Holo-man, Mr. Disappear_ \- no, no, that was all hokey...

He looked off in the distance. The sun was high in the sky and he was feeling the heat. The air rippled in the distance, warping his vision. 

“Mirage.”

He looked back at Bloodhound, who was watching him.

“I’m M-Mirage.” He told them resolutely. Hearing it out loud made him like it even more. 

Bloodhound tilted their head, making the strands of beads that adorned their helmet sway. “Mirage... Very well, _félagi_ fighter.”

More shots filled the air in the distance. They both tensed, glancing around. Elliott clutched the hemlock in his clammy hands. He tried not to tremble.

“We must go,” They told him. “It is better to know where our enemy lies.”

Mirage nodded and they began to run again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for a late update. January was uh, quite the month, huh? Hope you are all well and good. I'm making a tumblr and possibly a twitter for posting writing updates. 
> 
> any mistakes I catch I will fix
> 
> Comments make me happy! Thanks for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> if there's any mistakes I'll fix them soon. Enjoy reading!


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